for someone else’s?
I know that I wouldn’t. An autistic child? I don’t think that is a challenge I am up to, even with the means that my two girlfriends have, the ones referred to in my earlier blog from today.
Note: On the off chance that you didn’t realize it, I am not the chickie with the Fifth Avenue upbringing. And you might have thought that the chickie with the Fifth Avenue upbringing is the one who travels by private jet or chauffered car. But she’s not. Rather, the one with the Fifth Avenue upbringing is actually struggling to afford the private school for autistic children that she sends her son to; the state assists her, and she spends a good portion of her life petitioning for that assistance. The one with the chauffer is actually the one from Philadelphia, the one who has been struggling with MS for 10 years; she is the one who home schools her autistic son. I am the chickie who sends my kids to public school and always will, although of the three of us chickies, I am the only one who has had a different plastic surgery every year for the last four years as a means of coping with my problems (the ones in my head as well as the ones in my body). So…….you really can never tell. From looking at someone. Or even from reading a few lines about them.
I doubt anyone would trade their troubles for mine, even if that included having the means to deal with them as I have.
I just think that the devil you know is always a tad better than the devil you don’t.